The Love of an Angel
by Dragonfriend
Summary: A venture into Collins mind reveals his thoughts on his "angel of the first degree" from the moment Collins met Angel up until Angel's death. Please R


Disclaimer: I don't own RENT. I never have and I never will. RENT belongs to Jonathan Larson (I apologize if I mispelt his first name. Jonathan can be spelt in multiple different ways and I don't have my CD in front of me.). I borrowed Collins' mind for this story, however. I was intrigued by the love between Collins and Angel, so that's basically what this story is. This is only the first chapter in what, I hope, details the love between my two favorite characters. Do enjoy the story!

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The Love of an Angel

By Dragonfriend

            New York City.

            I took a deep breath, inhaling the smog I missed from being at MIT for seven months. I was home. It was strange how I thought of New York City as my home. I had no other place I could really call home. My friends were here, my roommates. I left behind my life when I taught at MIT.

            It occurred to me, standing on the street, that I should call Mark and Roger. I had to find a phone booth. Looking around, I found one on the end of the block, just below the apartment. I smiled as I walked over to it, placed my stuff on the curb, and dialed the apartment. The phone on the other end of the line rang, but no one picked up. I frowned. That meant they either weren't home or they were screening their calls.

            "Speak!" their voices on the answering machine commanded.

            "Chestnuts roasting," I started to sing, but stopped myself. "Hey, guys! I'm downstairs!"

            There was a click and then a familiar voice saying, "Hey! Collins!"

            "Roger actually picked up the phone?" I asked, allowing shock to creep into my voice. Roger almost never picked up the phone period.

            "No, its me! Mark!"

            I almost smacked my forehead. They sounded so similar over the phone.

            "I'm back. Throw down the key, would you?"

            "Hey, Roger!" Mark shouted to Roger. "Prepare yourself for a wild night!"

            "Sweet!" Roger's voice responded.

            Something shiny fell down to me. It was the apartment key! I caught it, smiling. They hadn't changed in the seven months I had been away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a group of white men coming towards me. Great.

            "Uh…guys, I may be detained." I hung up quickly.

            I could almost imagine Mark asking Roger what I meant by "detained." If only they knew. I made a move to run, but one of them grabbed me from behind. His friend had a rod in his hands. Great. I was going to get beaten up.

            "Hi, guys," I said, trying to get out of this. "How are you?" No answer. "Look, guys, I don't-----"

            Before I could finish, the man with the rod proceeded to slam the rod into me, alternating it with his fists. I felt them fly into my stomach, my face, over my eye. I yelped in pain. Was this a hate crime, or was I being mugged?

            "He don't got any dough," a voice behind me exclaimed.

            "Hey! Knock it off!" I pleaded between the pale fists and the shimmering rod pounding my body.

            A motion from the beater forced the man behind me to drag me into a darkened alley. A siren wailed in the distance; the beeping of horns echoed in the darkness. Once again the beating started up. I thought I heard something crack. Did one of my ribs just break? The man behind me flung me against a wall, yanking my coat off my back. I heard something rip and then I made hard contact with the wall. I think I cried out in pain, but I wasn't sure. Fast footsteps blended into silence. I was alone.

            I peeled myself from the wall to assess the damage done to me. My coat was gone with the exception of a sleeve. My chocolate skin had small rivers of blood flowing to the ground. Somehow, I forced myself out of the alley to the welcoming glow of a streetlamp. 

            _Some welcome,_ I thought to myself.

            Dizziness caused me to sway and fall against the lamppost. Safety----somewhat. I pushed myself off the lamppost and started to walk, unsteady, down the street. I had to get out of there…somehow. I didn't know how, but I would. And then, I heard faint drumming. What on earth was that? The dizziness won out and I fell forward, slamming into the sidewalk. I was in more pain now than I had ever been. I needed help. And Roger and Mark? Would they come looking for me? I had their key, after all…somewhere. Or had it been in my coat pocket? I forced my mind to stop thinking about it; it hurt too much to think. The drumming got louder, then stopped. A shadow fell over me, but I just ignored it. And then a sweet voice drew me back to reality.

            "You okay, honey?"

            The voice was male, although a bit too high to be masculine. I looked up. A young boy stood there, his black hair gelled into spikes, wearing a purple shirt and shiny black pants. He held a white plastic bucket under one arm as he stared at me. He expected an answer.

            "Unfortunately," I replied.

            "They get any money off of you?"

            "Didn't have any for them to get. They took my coat…minus one sleeve." I stood, shakily, guiding by the boy. He offered me a pink handkerchief to clean up my face. I smiled. "Thanks."

            "No big," he replied. "Hell, no one should be alone on Christmas Eve." I felt his eyes, big and intense, staring at me. "Um…I----I'm Angel, by the way."

            "Angel," I echoed.

            _Here was my angel right in front of me!_ I wanted to scream. _You're my angel!_

            Angel stared at me, expecting me to say something else. I felt myself start to sway. Instantly, he caught me, guided me back to the ground so I could rest there, and turned the bucket over so he could sit on it.

            "You are an angel," I said, forcing my mouth to form the words, "an angel of the first degree." As a nearby junk pile lit up, I smiled. "Nice…erhm…tree."

            "Let's get you cleaned up," Angel said.

            So saying, he proceeded to escort me down the street to a small building and into his little apartment. He firmly ordered me to sit down. I did, sitting in a plain wooden chair. He smiled at me, going over to a cabinet.

            "That thing you said about me before," he said, rummaging through the cabinet. "Do you say that to everyone?"

            "Only to you," I said, raising my hand in a promising gesture.

            "Let's get you patched up before I change for the Life Support meeting," Angel said, changing the subject.

            Life Support? I recognized that name. It was an AIDS support group. Did my angel have AIDS? I almost cried. I had found someone perfect only to know I might loose my angel.

            "Yeah," he continued, as if reading my thoughts, "my body provides a home for the Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome."

            "So does mine."

            I froze. Did I just say that? It wasn't something I said easily to anyone. Why did I feel like I could tell Angel anything?

            "We'll get along all the better, then," Angel exclaimed, returning to my side, his arms full of various anti-bacterial creams and forms of bandages (from Band-Aids to gauze). He knelt by my knee where I noticed a patch of blood, and began to clean the wound. "How about this. I'll buy you a new coat; treat you to dinner. You know, make a night out of it. It'll be fun."

            "But my friends are waiting for me," I protested, blushing at his hospitality.

            He looked up at me.

            "You're cute when you blush," he said, looking away from me.

            That only made me blush more. He laughed melodiously before returning to my knee. I sighed, staring over his head into a darker room. What was back there? Pain spread up from my knee into my thoughts and I yelped, startled. I guess I jumped because Angel fixed me with a hard stare.

            "Sorry," I apologized.

            "Bring your friends along," Angel suggested. I flashed him a puzzled look. "On our night out? Remember? The more the merrier."

            "Thank you for the offer, but------" I started.

            "And," he added, cutting me off by cupping my chin in his hands, "I do not take no."

            "Guess I have to accept then, don't I?" I smiled, watching him apply a Band-Aid to my knee. "Why are you so eager to take us out?"

            "I made a thousand dollars today. I have to spend it on _some_one," Angel explained.

            I felt my eyes widen, the motion causing bruised tissue to sting. "How'd you do that?"

            "Well," Angel said, "I was playing my bucket on Avenue A when a limousine pulled up. You know, one of those fancy white ones that we only see when something important is happening around here. The woman inside rolled down the window and said, 'Darling, I haven't slept in the _long_est time. I need your help to make my neighbor's dog disappear."

            I smiled as Angel made his voice sound like the stereotypical upper-class woman with a mock-British accent.

            "Well, I didn't know _what_ to say to that. 'That's nice,' I said, 'but what can I do?'

            "'They have an Akita named Evita. I think if you play, non-stop, it'll bark itself to death.'"

            "That's a pleasant thought," I said, interrupting Angel.

            "Very," Angel replied, a semi-disgusted look gracing his face. "So we agreed on a thousand dollars, plus a bonus if I trimmed her tree for her. After I played for an hour, Evita fell off the 23rd story window ledge. She paid me and that was that."

            I smiled. "Wait until you meet my friends, Angel. You'll like them."

            "I like meeting new people," Angel confessed, smiling. "Your friends have any supplies or anything?"

            "I don't think so," I replied, shaking my head.

            "We'll stop off at the store and buy them some food then."

            "They have a wood-burning stove," I blurted out.

            He looked at me and raised a beautifully sculpted eyebrow. "Aren't those illegal?"

            "Yeah," I admitted, "but since when do bohemians obey laws?"

            "Good point," he said. "We'll buy some wood for them, too."

            Finished with his treatment, Angel went into a back room to change. I sat there, waiting for him to emerge. I heard a closet door swing open with a creak and I couldn't bear the silence any more.

            "Angel?"

            "Mmm?"

            "Why did you help me?"

            "Why not?" I could almost hear the smile in his words. "I could say pity…and I could say I've been in the same situation plenty of times. Both would be true, but those aren't the real reasons."

            "So what was?"

            "I saw you sitting there and I didn't want you to get hurt any more." There was a pause. "I think I love you, Collins."

            I sat there, gripping the edge of the chair in shock. He…loved me? It took me a minute before I realized I felt the same way. I loved my angel. I wanted him to love me, too. I don't know why my mind felt this way all of a sudden, but I wanted it. I wanted him.

            "You _think_ you love me?" I asked him, amused.

            "I _know_."

            He emerged, now dressed in drag. Angel was decked in a Santa Claus skirt-coat, flashy zebra-striped tights, and a black platform shoes. And he----she now----looked fabulous.

            "That's nice," I said, commenting on the outfit and that she knew she loved me.

            "Collins?"

            "Mmm?"

            "Would you…kiss me before we go out?"

            I felt my breath catch in my throat. This is what I had been hoping she'd ask me. I took her in my arms and she threw her arms around my neck as our lips locked. I don't know if I can explain the beauty of those moments we spent like that, but I think I can try. Picture the beauty of your first kiss and falling into your lover's eyes for the first time. Mix them together, and then add all beauty you've ever seen in the world. Once you do, you might have some idea as to what those precious moments were like for me. I never wanted it to end.

            Finally, she drew away from me, a smile on her face.

            "Did we have to end it?" I asked her.

            "Of course we did, silly," she replied. "We still have shopping to do, and then you have to introduce me to your friends."

            Damn! I almost forgot about Mark and Roger!

            "My lady," I said, offering her my arm.

            She laughed melodiously and took my arm.

            "Let's go shopping," she said.


End file.
